


Red

by clarissa_writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealous Steve Rogers, Soft Steve, all cutesy stuff, steve just wants to love you, two times steve wants to kiss you and the one time he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: Otherwise known as: Two times Steve wants to kiss you and the one time he does.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 140





	Red

i.

Steve was tired.

He was exhausted, hungry, and in danger of falling asleep on the floor with only three hours of shut eye under his belt. He tried not to let it affect his mood, returning the greetings he got when entering the Tower lobby with short, terse nods and a mumble of _good morning_ under his breath. But really, he needed his sleep. At this point all he wanted to do was lay in bed and fall away. To just shut his eyes and get a few hours of sweet, uninterrupted rest without Hydra trying to body slam him into a building.

The mission had taken a lot out of him. He was drained- emotionally, physically, and mentally. Mostly because it was a solo mission he had to handle himself. Sure, he had some agents Fury had sent with him, but it wasn’t the same. Nat and Clint was off to Bucharest, Bruce was in charge of a college seminar, Tony was busy with contracts regarding Avenger alliance ties with Wakanda and Thor was off planet doing God knows what.

And Steve, well, he was free.

Steve sighed, pressing the up button while waiting patiently for the elevator to arrive. A few seconds pass by when the elevator doors sprung apart. Thinking nothing of it, he was already taking a step forward but stopped short when his eyes took in the frame of a woman standing inside with her eyes shifting from the ground to his. Steve felt his breath catch, his blood roar in his ears and suddenly, he’s brought back to 39′ when Steve danced with Loraine Hillshire- the girl he was sweet on- and was wheezing throughout the whole song. Asthmatic, small, and weak, Steve didn’t last longer than fifteen minutes. 

After the serum, stamina was never a problem, but now... He found himself feeling like pre-serum Steve Rogers. 

He felt his cheeks burn as he stared at her.

She was gorgeous.

So gorgeous in fact, that he felt himself heat up with the fatigue wasting away in an instant. The gorgeous dame raises a brow at him and tilts her head to the side,

"Uh, you coming?"

Steve's cheeks were firetruck red at this rate.

"I-uh-what?"

God, he was an idiot. But the dame doesn't seem to mind his sputtering, and only smiles when she gestures to the spot beside her,

"The elevator?"

The blonde very nearly slammed his head against the wall in attempt to snap himself out of his stupor, but instead of making himself look like an even bigger fool, he just wordlessly shuffles into the elevator beside her.

“To your floor, Captain Rogers?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks Friday.”

Settling beside her in silence -Tony hated elevator music so you should expect the complete and utter silence there- Steve folded his hands together and decided that if he's going to survive the next minute and a half, he'd stare at the wall.

So he does.

He tries not to get distracted, tries not to let himself get tempted to take a peek, but then the woman starts to hum a tune that he can't place. And so his curiosity starts to get the better of him.

Steve doesn't mean to look. 

He really doesn't. But when his eyes caught the flash of blue and red lace peeking from the cleavage of her t-shirt, he can't help the way his eyes widened and his throat dries. His cheeks _hurt_. His heart slammed against his ribs, and no amount of punching, kicking, or running could ever compare to how he felt so exhilarated than in this moment.

You catch him looking and the color in his cheeks are almost as red as the shield printed on the cup of your bra but you don't let it phase you. No, if anything it only boosts your confidence. Steve half-expected you to slap him, maybe even file a sexual harassment complaint to HR but you do none of that.

Instead, a wide mischievous grin takes over your face, you wink, and then blew him a kiss before strutting out the elevator when the doors pull apart, leaving the good Captain gaping after you and wondering if he'll ever see the dame wearing Captain America lingerie again.

His lips tingle with wonder of how well your lips would’ve felt against his. 

He watches your hips sway.

He figures it would’ve been a perfect fit.

ii.

Steve wanted to leave.

He wanted to make up some bullshit excuse on why he had to turn in early just so he could avoid talking to another _bored and lonely_ woman who had something she wanted him to see back at her place or on his floor. It felt very much like talking to Nat. Anytime she tried to set him up, she’d corner him and bite down, erasing any chance to escape.

A Stark party was a very similar experience.

The women were vicious, and quite frankly, blunt with how they wanted this night to end. Preferably, in his bed with Captain America an achieved conquest. The last woman had boldly stroked his arm, lips curling into a suggestive smile just as he was able to slip from her clutches and claim the need to speak to Tony.

Tony, of course, hadn’t been in sight, but the woman backed off easily enough.

Taking a sip of champagne, he plays with the flute of his cup as he pretends to be engrossed in a conversation he was having with Miss... _Annie? Anna? Alice?_ He smiles and nods, occasionally laughing, and from the way her eyes lit up, it seems as though he was pulling it off well. 

Until that is, he sees a flash of red.

His blue eyes are wide, lips slightly parting as he completely zones out of the conversation he was supposed to be having. He doubts anyone could blame him. How can he focus when you came in looking like _that?_

Steve wasn't exactly embarrassed to admit that since crossing paths with you in the elevator a few months ago, he was actively looking out for mystery elevator girl anytime he went inside the tower. Though it was all in vain, because up until now, he never saw you again. He couldn’t exactly _ask_ Tony about you, or ask to check the elevator feed. 

He had no doubt that Stark would terrorize him and use his infatuation with the pretty elevator girl to his advantage. He would practically give the man a free pass to make fun of him. Worse, Tony would come up with some scheme to get in contact with you.

Then there’s that part of him that was reluctant -but inclined- to believe that maybe he dreamt you up. Maybe his exhaustion had worn him out so thin, he was hallucinating and you were just a fragment of his imagination. A pretty little dream of red lips and big doe eyes. A perfect mixture of innocence and sin.

As time went by with no sign of mystery elevator girl, Steve had gradually began to accept that yes, you were just a trick of his mind, but then tonight happened.

You were very much real.

And as beautiful, if not more so, as he remembered.

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat as he watched you gracefully weave down the floor. The red number sticking to your skin like glue highlighted the generous curves of your body, the slit only teased his already over-active mind when your shapely leg comes into view. His ears tinge pink, but he can’t look away.

You are a vision.

Steve was well aware he was gawking, not that anyone could really blame him for it. He would bet everything he owned he wasn't the only one staring. Steve Rogers was a super soldier, but he was also a hot blooded male like anyone else. Your presence had been so gravitating that all of the attention fell onto you.

Every step you took, Steve watched you like a man thirsty for water after hours of walking in the heat, and you were a cold stream presented in front of him. A temptation. A siren calling out to him. 

To your credit, you took it all in stride. You didn’t spare anyone a glance, not even the attractive billionaire from England (to his relief), making his way over to you.

No, you were a woman on a mission and you let nothing deter you from your destination. You continued down the path, heels clicking one after the other until you make a stop in front of the bar. 

Steve was conflicted.

His conversation partner, who long realized he wasn’t paying her any attention since you came in, had huffed away in anger, leaving him all alone. He wanted to go over to you, to maybe strike up a conversation and get to know each other. 

At the very least, get your name, so he doesn’t have to keep referring to you as Mystery Elevator Girl or remember you as the person wearing Captain America lingerie-

“She’s gorgeous, isn't she?”

Steve startled, breaking the flute of his cup as he whipped his head down to see Natasha standing beside him. _When had she gotten there?_ She was staring at you, eyes calculating but expression otherwise blank. _Fuck._ She caught him. He blushed, ducking his head down for a second at being caught, before he couldn’t resist to take another look at you,

“She is.”  
  
He admitted, setting the broken champagne cup on a passing waiter’s tray. The poor guy had blanched, took one look at Steve, and then hurried off to who knows where. Steve was smitten, he wasn't going to deny that.

Like a school boy, he had a crush on the pretty elevator girl and was too afraid to talk to her.

He had wanted for so long to see you again, and now that he did, he was far too nervous to walk up to you. He couldn’t afford to miss this chance. He knew to some extent, you liked him. At least, enough that you would wear his er- _Captain America_ lingerie. 

Like being struck down by lightning, a flash in his memory reminds him of the red and blue of your bra. 

He felt fire burn within him.

He couldn’t explain it, but when he realized you were wearing the icon of his shield against your breast, he felt something primal inside him purr. The mere idea that you had something of _his_ on your body had given him a sense of claim over you. It made no sense, he knew that, but he had felt so damn good about it. It didn’t even have to mean anything. For all he knew, you were given the set as a gift, or a joke. It didn't mean you went out of your way to buy it....

But that didn’t really matter to him.

Not really.

Not when it meant you were wearing Captain America lingerie.

The fact that you had smiled, winked and _blew him a damn kiss_ -

God, he wanted nothing more than to make that kiss real. To press his lips against yours and see if the red tint would smear. He wanted your lips to paint him with your touch. To see the pale of his skin covered with red streaks of your lips.

He knew if he talked to you and the conversation went right, he might just be able to get a date and hopefully, a kiss goodnight. The fact that he saw you again? It had to be fate. But fate was never kind to him. There had to be some kind of catch.

“She's Tony’s newest intern, (Y/n).”

And there's the catch. 

The hope died in his chest. There was no way he could approach you. You were Tony’s _intern_. And Steve knew _intern_ was code for pupil. You were very much like Peter Parker in the sense that Tony had taken you under his wing. You were practically his child. 

Someone Steve couldn’t touch.

Steve frowned, but never took his eyes off you. You were sitting on a stool, drinking something the bartender had given you while you ignored the man sitting beside you, trying to get your attention. He finally got your name, but now he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

All Steve _could_ do was look at you from afar and wish things were different.

“Are you going to talk to her?”

Nat looked to him, but still, Steve didn't let his gaze stray from your figure.

“No.”  
  
He tells her,

“I’m just fine right here.”  
  
She didn't believe him.

He didn’t either. 

iii.

Steve wasn’t possessive.

He _wasn’t_.

But there’s something about the way that weapons specialist leans into your side that makes him bristle. Something about the way _Ricky_ (the name he heard Sam mention) dips his head down to whisper something in your ear that makes Steve want to wrap an arm around your waist and insert himself between you two. 

Granted, you two were just friends so he didn’t have any right to feel any kind of claim over you. 

And _Ricky_ was your date, so if anything, Steve was the one overstepping his boundaries by wanting to take his place. 

But _still_.

It was New Years Eve, ten minutes away to the countdown, and of course, Tony threw an extravagant party that had Steve reeling in from how much the man spent on booze alone. It wasn't so bad this time since most of the invites were from their inner circle and a few close associates from SHIELD. Maria was here and so was Sharon, though Steve made sure to avoid seeing the latter since he rejected her advances and confessed to her he was in love with someone else.

And yes, Steve was well aware he was in love with you.

Didn’t mean he was going to do anything about it. He had effectively earned himself the title of _Close Friend,_ after all. Since Nat caught his interest in you, she had delicately weaved out a plan to get you two _acquainted_.

It worked.

Just not completely.

At least, not in the way it counted.

She failed to take into consideration Steve’s awful and everlasting trouble of talking to women. Hence, why Steve became your close friend bordering best friend, and firmly planted himself in the friend zone. There was no “winging it” now.

Frowning, he tells himself he shouldn’t stare. That it’s rude. That it’s actually kind of creepy for anyone who would notice, but he doesn't listen to the voice of reason. No, instead he’s standing there looking every bit lonely and pitiful wearing a suit that would’ve cost him a leg and an arm back in the 40s. 

You’d found it endearing- the way he would always seem to be surprised on how much more expensive everything was. You’d also find a way to tease him about it, giving him that coy, cheeky smile that always made him feel lighter on his feet.

Natasha sauntered around the floor, making a beeline toward him with a red lipped smirk on her face,

“You keep glaring at him like that and he’ll catch on fire.”

Steve hummed, more like gruffly acknowledge, but continued to watch as _Ricky_ slipped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, smiling at whatever Maria was saying and laughed. 

Well if that didn’t just brighten up the room.

Steve was sure your smile was brighter than any firework out there. He could only imagine what it must feel like to have those lips slide against his. For a moment, he can almost picture it. He can almost stitch up some fantasy of how it would play it out.

He’d stride over there, uncaring for the squawk of surprise from Ricky and unabashedly take you in his arms and kiss the life out of you. In his perfect world, you would respond in kind and when he proclaimed his love for you, you’d reciprocate. 

Here in the real world, you’d probably slap him and effectively cut him from your life. 

See, now _that_ wasn't an option.

He’d rather have you in his life as a friend than not at all. He didn’t want to risk losing you for something trivial like his feelings. Feelings he was certain you didn't return. Why risk that on chance?

“She feels the same, you know.”

That manages to catch Steve’s interest, but he doesn’t dare put any hope on her words. He looks down to Natasha, brows drawn together as he shoots her a look,

“It’s not nice to lie, Nat.”

“Who said I was lying?”

Steve holds her eyes for a beat before turning away with the shake of his head. He knew better than to bite at what she was saying, but that stubborn, reluctant part of him grabs onto her words blindly,

“If she did, why would she be here with _him_.”

“Maybe she's waiting for the right partner to step up.”

The red head sighs out,

“Or maybe, he’s her best friend. Her openly _gay_ best friend.”

Steve was almost sure he broke his neck from how quickly he turned to look at her. For the first time in so long, he felt excitement build up in his chest. There’s that inkling of hope, quickly spreading into a wildfire that’s got him fidgeting on his feet. He looks at Natasha carefully, trying to see any underlying trace if deceit...

There’s none.

And suddenly, everything seems so much lighter.

And then his feet is carrying him off in your direction, leaving the Russian spy smiling into her cup, but he doesn’t really notice. No, he’s too busy staring at you like you were the only damn thing he could see.

It’s like everything else in the room faded away- the chatter, the people, the music- and he can't stop. He doesn’t want to. He takes a step, another, and then another, and now he’s standing in front of you.

Somewhere in the distance, he can hear someone shout out “ ** _ten_** ” with everyone else suddenly following through with the rest. You’re standing there, wide eyed and beautiful, same red lipstick painting over your lips. 

_**“Nine!”** _

He steps into your space, Ricky quickly backing away as the others you were speaking to gape in surprise at his sudden appearance,

“Steve-”

_**“Eight!”** _

You never get to finish your sentence because his hands reach up to cup your face, and then he’s leaning down to chase after the red that’s tormented him since the day he first saw you.

**_“Seven!”_ **

You might’ve been caught off guard, but your surprise quickly wears off when you see where this is going. 

**_“Six!”_ **

Your lashes flutter, eyelids starting to shut as he gets even closer, lips only a mere centimeter away.

**_“Five!”_ **

You can feel his minty breath fan over you, his warmth starting to spread, his silky hair brushing your forehead.

**_“Four!”_ **

Blue, crystal eyes flicker up and he stops. He pulls away by a fraction to press his forehead against yours.

**_“Three!”_ **

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes,

“Can I kiss you?”

**_“Two!”_ **

You don’t hesitate, tilting his head down to finally close the distance,

“Yes.”  
  
 ** _“One!”_**

There’s fireworks.

Not the fireworks that are being broadcast on TV.

Not the fireworks Tony paid for to showcase outside his venue.

There’s fireworks behind shut eyes. Fireworks igniting every inch of his skin. There’s fireworks from how you meld into his body like a perfect fit, fireworks from how you twist your fingers into his blonde tresses, fireworks from how he catches your gasps into his mouth every time you pull away for air only to come back for more.

When you both pull away, the ache is still there. The ache to get closer, the need to feel you once more on his skin. Steve doesn't let himself get too selfish. Not yet, at least. He pants, eyes a little glazed over and cheeks flushed red.

He looks down at you with his hands planted firmly on your hips. You don't try to wretch away from his touch. You’re standing there looking breathless, lips swollen and cheeks a pretty pink, but otherwise entirely content. A soft smile curves on your face.

Steve licks his lips and blurts it out without an ounce of finesse,

“Can I take you out dancing?”

The heart-stopping smile that he gets is answer enough.

* * *

When he goes home later that night ~~day? early morning?~~ with plans to go dancing next Saturday, he goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He nearly chokes when he stares at himself in the mirror.

Wiping his lips and cheek, Steve can't help but smile.

_His skin did look better with red._


End file.
